Jan 2015
"What's the matter dear?"
Psh... They say it as if they actually care.
Everything.
Nothing.
I have no ******* clue what is actually wrong with me.
What is so wrong with me that I am squeezing my lungs with my dirt covered hands just so I have trouble breathing, just so.. perhaps... I suffocate myself...
What is so wrong with me that I've had to cry so often my tears have turned to sand and they begin to erode my flesh?
I've sobbed so often lately that the features of my bare skull are now where my pretty face should be.
I'm such a **** up.
I swear they told me that the minute I was born. You would figure it was my name.
Hello my name is: **** Up.
Nice to meet you. I hope we can be great frie--- oh great.
I've done it again.
I said the wrong thing.
I held out the wrong hand for the handshake.
I'm too ugly for them to talk to.
I'm too skinny.
It's the pimples again isn't it?
They weren't this bad yesterday I promise I just pick
Pick... Pick... Too much.
I'm s-sorry I k-keep st-stuttering its j-just that you're s-so... pretty. Oh y-you have to g-go? O-okay...
The abandonment issues never really go away.
It gets harder and harder to talk to people. Even in your dreams you try to scream to get some recognition for yourself but every word comes out silent.
Crowds are your worst enemy. You get lost as they swarm towards you and your body suddenly feels tight. Your stomach flips upside down and you're not breathing steady.
And then... Oh! There's that suffocation you wanted earlier. Is it everything you expected? Breathe it all in! Oh wait... You can't. Hahaha!
You can't speak, and when you do you st-stutter again and you speak so quietly that it doesn't even matter anyway.
"I exist." You whisper.
No one heard you, you know.
Instead their voices bounce off each other and you feel light headed as that once wonderful cranium fills with the clamor of the incredibly untalented voice-drummers you unwillingly surround yourself with.
My entire body trembles with anxious defeat.
Such a **** up.
You can't even get him to talk to you again let alone love you, you miserable *******. You're going to be alone forever, you know.
And your own friends!... They're out doing drugs and you always believe them when they say they're going to quit. Jokes on you. This will traumatize you for the rest of your pointless life, especially when you know you could have done something.
You can't even take care of yourself, what makes you think you deserve those wonderful twins you hold so closely to your heart? You should have listened to your father when he said you'd be a terrible mother. He was right. You're horrid.
Sticks and stones WILL break my bones, but words will indeed **** me.
Hello, my name is: ****** Up
Welcome to the town of Unimportance.
Population: Me
Psh... They say it as if they actually care.
Everything.
Nothing.
I have no ******* clue what is actually wrong with me.
What is so wrong with me that I am squeezing my lungs with my dirt covered hands just so I have trouble breathing, just so.. perhaps... I suffocate myself...
What is so wrong with me that I've had to cry so often my tears have turned to sand and they begin to erode my flesh?
I've sobbed so often lately that the features of my bare skull are now where my pretty face should be.
I'm such a **** up.
I swear they told me that the minute I was born. You would figure it was my name.
Hello my name is: **** Up.
Nice to meet you. I hope we can be great frie--- oh great.
I've done it again.
I said the wrong thing.
I held out the wrong hand for the handshake.
I'm too ugly for them to talk to.
I'm too skinny.
It's the pimples again isn't it?
They weren't this bad yesterday I promise I just pick
Pick... Pick... Too much.
I'm s-sorry I k-keep st-stuttering its j-just that you're s-so... pretty. Oh y-you have to g-go? O-okay...
The abandonment issues never really go away.
It gets harder and harder to talk to people. Even in your dreams you try to scream to get some recognition for yourself but every word comes out silent.
Crowds are your worst enemy. You get lost as they swarm towards you and your body suddenly feels tight. Your stomach flips upside down and you're not breathing steady.
And then... Oh! There's that suffocation you wanted earlier. Is it everything you expected? Breathe it all in! Oh wait... You can't. Hahaha!
You can't speak, and when you do you st-stutter again and you speak so quietly that it doesn't even matter anyway.
"I exist." You whisper.
No one heard you, you know.
Instead their voices bounce off each other and you feel light headed as that once wonderful cranium fills with the clamor of the incredibly untalented voice-drummers you unwillingly surround yourself with.
My entire body trembles with anxious defeat.
Such a **** up.
You can't even get him to talk to you again let alone love you, you miserable *******. You're going to be alone forever, you know.
And your own friends!... They're out doing drugs and you always believe them when they say they're going to quit. Jokes on you. This will traumatize you for the rest of your pointless life, especially when you know you could have done something.
You can't even take care of yourself, what makes you think you deserve those wonderful twins you hold so closely to your heart? You should have listened to your father when he said you'd be a terrible mother. He was right. You're horrid.
Sticks and stones WILL break my bones, but words will indeed **** me.
Hello, my name is: ****** Up
Welcome to the town of Unimportance.
Population: Me
